Flowing Ink

United States

enjoy my ever-changing existence through this wondrous world of words

Message to Readers

Inspired by the fact that sunlight takes eight minutes to reach Earth. Feedback is welcome.

Eight Minutes to Reach You

September 22, 2020


Oh, child of the most ancient dream.
You see so little of the truth before you,
The universe takes so many forms
But you, child, do you perceive yourself a part of it all?
You feel the sun, light that traveled so far that it 
Took eight minutes to reach you from it galactic perch
And you wonder if it came to know you, to be known.

You dream so many things, so many worlds
Reality is flexible in your eyes.
You created worlds dark and cold and hard,
You created worlds warm and soft and simple,
You dreamed of worlds with sunlight that takes
Eight whole minutes to shine upon your face.
What is the universe?

You think the universe is everything that is not you,
That you atoms are somehow different from the ones that surround you
But your true form is fuzzy specks among a blurred interface.
Sometime the flecks of glowing something among the darkness
Were atoms and space; sometimes, they were stars and galaxies.
Your atoms came from the cores of stars, from a beginning of empty.

A woman breathed air, a woman survived, a woman came
She took the atoms she found and ate and breathed and made you, child.
Your dreaming began nestled safe in warm dark of that woman.
You touch this keyboard, this screen, upon this rock with a molten core
That spins around a bigger ball of burning gas
Who's light takes eight minutes to reach you.

You dreamed of terrifying things, beautiful things
You dreamed and woke, dreamed and woke.
But the moments you woke were fleeing glimpses
Of a reality too enormous, too small, too beautiful to comprehend.
And so, you dreamed of things like countries and races
You dreamed of imaginary barriers seperating the world
You dreamed that somehow, you were different.

You dreamed you were alone.
But you aren't, dear child.
The universe surrounds you, fluctuated and ebbs and flows
The universe that is your iris and fingertips, the universe that is just
These few little words across a screen that you dreamed into meaning
That universe is with you, within the light that you dreamed
the light that takes eight minutes to reach you.


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  • September 22, 2020 - 8:27pm (Now Viewing)

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